Roadside
by laynee
Summary: Some people needed priests and confessionals, Sam and Dead only needed roadsides. Very early season one; Sick/Broken/Angsty Sam, Big Brother Dean


Roadside.

7 June 2009

-I started watching season one (again). It has been a while since I actually watched Supernatural, and I missed a lot of episodes do to being gone and bad TV reception. So I was going off of what I remembered, other fanfic, wikipedia and other random info. I knew enough to cover the basics. Season one reminded me how much I liked this show, so I intend to watch all of it and be caught up.

This is set sometime in season one (shortly after Jess died), because I just wanted Sam and Dean fluff, I missed it, and it's sooo less complicated right now.

---SN---

Sam hadn't said anything in a while. Dean kept casting sideways glances over at him as he drove. Sam pretended not to notice, and half the time he didn't. He kept his eyes on the scenery passing by.

Sam hadn't slept in days, Dean was sure of that. If he kept it up, he'd end up sick and that was something Sam needed like a hole in the head. They were still relearning each other after the years Sam was away, but Dean could still read his kid brother. He still knew Sam.

"Sammy."

"I'm fine." His voice was low.

Dean didn't buy it for a second. "Sure. How about we find someplace to stay?"

Sam looked over. "It's the middle of the afternoon."

"And?"

"I'm fine." Sam turned back to the window. "Don't stop yet."

Dean didn't miss the slight plea, the way Sam's voice almost broke. He stole another glance at his kid brother, head rested against the window, eyes closed. Dean knew what someone nearly broken looked like, he remembered his father when he was only five.

It seemed the only sleep Sam really got, was in the car. A few hours on the road before a nightmare shattered it all. He didn't sleep in motels, he couldn't lie on the bed and see the white ceiling above him. He couldn't stand it. So he'd turn on his side, focus intently on the wall and wait for morning. Even then, his mind put Jess right back up on that ceiling and dared him to look.

That was why Sam didn't want a motel room yet. Why he just wanted to keep driving, catching a few hours while Dean was in complete control a foot away. He wanted to keep running until everything was gone except for the impala and it's contents. He also knew that would never really happen, he could never leave any of it behind. It clung to him, wrapped around him like chains.

"Sam?" Dean was testing to see if he was awake.

Sam shifted, but didn't answer. Dean relaxed some behind the wheel. He wondered how long Sam would have, he hoped hours. He'd keep driving as long as he could.

Dean glanced over. "You'll be okay, kid." He hoped it was true.

The sleep was short lived. Sam woke fifty minutes later with his breath caught in his lungs and panic running through his blood. He shifted and glanced over at Dean, who pretended not to notice his little brother starting awake. Sam shifted as he gained his bearings and stretched in the cramped space. Without a word, Dean pulled off into the parking lot of a roadside diner.

"I'm hungry." Dean said by way of explanation as he got out of the car.

Sam hesitated a second before he followed. He hadn't been hungry since that night, but he ate because he knew he should.

Dean was already eyeing up a waitress when Sam slid in across from him. The greasy air did nothing for Sam's appetite and the offered selection of the menu did even less. He ordered a BLT and fries to keep Dean from shooting him a look. Dean got his usual burger, with everything and then some. The waitress was practically in Dean's lap as she set the plates down. Sam looked away as a sudden memory of the way Jess looked at him flickered in his mind.

Sam took a few bites of his dinner and even though it was better than he expected, it was an effort to swallow. He wondered if he was coming down with something or if it was just nerves. He hoped for the latter and took a drink. Dean was doing a brilliant job of seeming like he only had eyes for the waitress, but really, he was making sure Sam was okay. The protective big brother was hard to put to rest, and right now Sam needed all the help he could get, whether he asked for it or not.

Dean finished his food before Sam had managed half of his. It didn't take a genius to see that Sam was about ready to go, he eyed the door like a convict.

"I'll be by the car." He muttered and stood.

Dean let him go for a few minutes before he threw the money on the table and followed. Sam was leaned against the trunk of the impala when Dean found him. He had an arm loosely wrapped around his stomach and he looked out over the parking lot like it held answers. Dean leaned next to his little brother. Neither spoke for a while.

"Sam."

His eyes flicked over to Dean for a second.

"Don't tell me you're fine, I know you're not."

Sam swallowed. "Then I won't say it."

"Talk to me."

"You don't do chick flick moments." It should have been a joke, but his voice was monotone.

"Yeah, so maybe there's an exception."

Sam pushed away from the car and looked like he almost wavered for a second. He took a step away from Dean.

"Wanna get a room?"

Sam shook his head slightly. "You know why I don't?" He spoke low, the wind almost took his words away.

Dean waited and took a half step towards his brother.

Sam turned, his eyes dark for a moment. "Because of the perfectly white ceilings."

It didn't even take Dean a second to understand. "We can drive as long as you want."

"Won't matter." Sam looked defeated, lost. "I'm tired, Dean. Let's just get a room."

Sam got into the car without another word. Dean wanted to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake the answers out of him. Instead, he climbed behind the wheel and they pulled back onto the highway. Dean remembered a sign for a motel not too far up the road, they'd stop there for the night. Sam kept his eyes on the darkening scenery outside the window. He didn't say anything, didn't hardly move and didn't meet Dean's eyes.

They pulled into the parking lot of the Roadside motel, standard in every slightly run down way. Dean got a room and let Sam find his own way in. Dean could still read his brother, and he knew enough to give Sam space and time. That didn't mean that he didn't keep an eye out for him though.

Sam came in fifteen minutes later. He managed a weak smile in Dean's direction before he went into the bathroom. The shower started and Dean relaxed slightly. He flipped open his phone to check for any messages from their dad, but there was nothing. As usual. He kicked off his shoes and tossed his jacket in a nearby chair. Even though they hadn't been driving as long as other days, he still felt exhaustion across his shoulders. Worrying about your little brother did that.

Sam turned on the shower, but stood fully clothed in the bathroom. He braced his hands on the counter and looked at his reflection. He could clearly see the dark circles under his eyes, the way fatigue mixed with the pain in his eyes, his pale cheeks, his dark hair. He couldn't ignore the lost hopelessness that spilled from his every feature.

It was getting harder to remember Jessica, the exact color of her eyes, the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand on his arm, her smell. It hurt, somewhere deep in his chest, her absence. He took a slow breath with his eyes closed and pulled off his shirt. He stepped under the shower and let weariness pull at him.

He almost smiled when Dean banged on the door. "Sam, you've been in there a week. I swear, if there's no hot water left, I'll kick your ass."

Sam pulled on his jeans and shirt and stepped out of the bathroom. He passed Dean without a word and sunk onto the bed. Once the bathroom door had closed, Sam fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes. It took him a moment to realize that was the exact thing he did when Jessica was killed. He sat up too fast and gripped the edge of the bed to keep from falling from dizziness. It didn't help settle the uneasiness in his stomach and he wondered yet again if maybe he was coming down with something or if it was stress. Maybe if he could just get a little sleep.

Dean's soft, "Sammy." Startled him from his thoughts.

He looked up at his older brother. "Yeah?"

"Get some sleep, you look beat."

Sam nodded, but didn't move further than that.

Dean looked at him, wondering if he should ask the question or if he'd even get an answer beyond 'fine'. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, just tired or something."

"Can't imagine why." He smiled.

Sam managed a weak smile. "Yeah. Guess I'll turn in."

Dean gripped his brother's shoulder. "It will get better."

Sam slid under the blankets and let himself rest briefly. Dean left the bathroom light on, but closed the door slightly, so that a strip of light spread across the carpet.

"Goodnight, Sam." He turned off the lamp.

Despite his best efforts, Sam fell asleep within minutes. Dean waited until he heard his brother's breathing even out before he let himself fall asleep.

Sam's sleep was short lived. He woke with a start to the nightmare that had been plaguing him. He woke with his breath in his lungs and 'Jess' on his lips. He sat up, fists clenched in his lap. The images did nothing to calm his stomach. He pushed back the blankets that had tangled around his legs and slipped into the bathroom. He closed the door and blinked against the light. He waited to be sick and hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

Dean woke when Sam did. He heard his brother sit up, heard his panicked breathing, heard him get up and go into the bathroom. Dean sat up and rubbed his hand over his face. Three in the morning was far to early for either of them to be awake. He would wait for Sam to come back into the room, they would exchange a slight glance that would tell Dean how scared or broken Sam was, and then Sam would go back to bed without a word. To lay for hours until morning.

That's what happened nearly every night. Dean leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, content to wait. Until he heard the unmistakable sound of his brother puking his guts up in the bathroom. Dean was on his feet in an instant.

He knocked gently on the door. "Sammy?"

"I'm fine." The words were muttered, quiet, a lie.

"I'm coming in, okay?" Dean took the lack of response as an agreement and opened the door.

Sam was slumped against the wall. He raised his eyes up as Dean came in and crouched down.

Dean cupped the back of Sam's neck. "Hey, kiddo, what's going on?"

"Nothing." He whispered.

"Right. You done with nothing and ready to go back to bed?"

A quick glimpse of pain flashed in Sam's eyes and he swallowed.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was rough and quiet.

Sam's lip quivered for half a second. "I couldn't watch it, not again."

Dean didn't have to ask what 'it' was. He wished it wasn't in Sam's head at all.

"But you've never done this before, have you?" There were so many secrets now, so much in Sam's head that Dean didn't know about.

Sam wearily shook his head. He was exhausted and sick and broken on the bathroom floor. He let his eyes slipped closed for a moment and focused only on Dean's hand on the back of his head.

"Oh, Sammy." Dean gently leaned his brother forward.

Dean felt the faint heat of a fever through his tee shirt from Sam's forehead against his shoulder. Neither moved though, it was enough just to sit there. Sam's hand reached forward and he tangled his fingers in Dean's tee shirt.

"Let's get you back to bed, Sammy." Dean muttered against Sam's hair. "Get you properly drugged up and back to bed."

"No." His voice broke.

"Then what do you need me to do?"

"Just stay." He breathed.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam. Okay?"

Sam slumped against Dean.

"Come on, Sammy."

Dean slowly and carefully eased his brother to his feet and led him to his bed. Sam sat on the edge of the mattress, elbows rested on knees and head bowed low. Dean rummaged through a bag until he found a bottle of advil. He placed three pills on the table and set a cup of water next to it. Sam took it obediently and sighed. Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and eased his little brother back onto the pillow. Sam curled into a ball as Dean pulled the blankets up.

"Dean?" Sam muttered, his eyes glazed and tired.

He sat behind Sam on the bed, his hip aligned with Sam's back. "Yeah."

"Staying?"

"You can't get rid of me. Get some sleep, okay?"

Sam nodded and buried his head in the pillow. Dean rubbed small circles on his brother's shoulder and leaned his head back against the headboard. He knew the moment Sam fell asleep, the moment his breathing evened out, the moment he finally relaxed. Dean slid down until his own head was on a pillow and made sure that he still had contact with his brother. After a while, he let himself sleep.

Dean woke first and automatically looked over at Sam. Other than a little pale, he looked all right. He checked for fever and was relieved when it wasn't there. Carefully, Dean slipped out of bed to shave and brush his teeth. As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, all the memories of the night before came flooding back. He couldn't forget the broken depth of Sam's eyes.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Sam had rolled to his back. He was awake, but didn't make much attempt to move.

"How are you?" Dean pulled on a clean shirt.

"Okay." His voice was low. "When are we leaving?"

"Soon as you can."

He sat up and shoved the blankets back. "Hour?"

"You're not puking in my car, Sam." Dean smirked.

Sam responded with an obscene gesture and a weak smile as he went into the bathroom. They'd move on because Sam had to, because he hadn't been able to stay more than a night or two in one place. If he kept moving, then he didn't have to think as much about what had happened. Dean understood this, he had done the same thing after Sam left for college. He started packing up their things.

Sam was quiet in the car, Dean didn't expect much conversation. There was nothing but empty prairie alongside the highway they were on. They had been driving for a few hours. The day was cloudy, windy, cool.

"Dean." Sam's voice was quiet.

He looked over. "Yeah."

"Could we stop for a bit?" He spoke while looking out the window.

"You okay?" Dean was already pulling onto the shoulder of the road.

When the car had stopped, Sam got out and walked to the back. He leaned against the trunk with his arms folded across his chest. Dean approached slowly.

"Go back in the car." Sam looked out over the empty road.

Dean leaned against the car, next to his brother. "What are you thinking?"

Sam looked lost, broken, hurt. He closed his eyes for a moment and looked down. "That if I had been there, she would have been okay. I could have taken her place and all of this would be over."

Dean's breath caught in his lungs for a moment.

"You and dad would have been fine, back to hunting whatever, wouldn't have me to worry about, and Jess. Jess would still be alive."

"But you wouldn't?"

Sam shrugged. "It would have been a sacrifice."

"But I couldn't have lived with that."

He looked over at Dean.

"You're my kid brother, Sam, There's not a whole lot of purpose to things without you." He shrugged, eyes on the road, voice even. "It wouldn't mean that I'd stop looking for what took mom, or you." He looked over at Sam then. "As far as I'm concerned, we're in this together. Always have been and nothing's going to change that. We're going to be okay."

Dean put his arm around his kid brother's shoulders. Sam let him, needed him to. Some people needed priests and confessionals, Sam and Dean just needed empty roadsides.


End file.
